Witch of the Altar
by Uncle.Dragon
Summary: A girl, abandoned in the snowy peaks at 5 minutes old, grows up seventeen years later to seek revenge. This is her tale of finding love and her tears. Pokemon and Maple Story references included. Also stars ShizNat. WARNING: Standby your tissue boxes.


_Unto the world, a new day is born._

The wind is sweet, sweeping the snows, through jagged chasms and swooping valleys, cresting the glassy mountains and the shimmering fields. It sings and flows, touching the yeti's noses as they raise their heads to the silver morning. It whirls and whistles round the sleeping lycanthropes in a fantastical dance, brushing the snow from their matted grey coats.

And in the cold valleys far away, the winding whispers grow into harrowed cries. The winds can feel the unrest in the invisible caverns around them as they ascend the towering hundred-miles, dark caves that hold the birthrights of a million histories.

Blinking their eyes, the spirits of the wind dance away.

The gusts are swift on their long journeys across the treacherous snowy path of the Genbu sector. But as they soar by its valleys and frozen glades, they never miss it—the lonely, icy edifice perched on the outcrops. On it the words are cut deep, old wounds of a heartfelt knife, words that hold all the sorrow of a thousand lifetimes. The gentle winds caress the icy letters in grief, each one—before they soar away, leaving the solitary altar behind. And the ice tomb gazes on, down into the valleys, with its wish to shed a tear.

The touch of the gales is like…

…_is like the brush of icy wings._

She feels their caress on her face.

In sudden desperation, she screams.

* * *

_Here lies Chikane Himemiya_

_Daughter of the Dragons_

_

* * *

_

_Unto the world, a child is born._

The evening was blue, vivid falling blue. In the deepest warmth of the cold village, a woman lay, fists clenched, at the edge of her bed, sweat carving salty rivers into the white sheets. Around her, her loved ones watched, their anticipation even greater than her own. Faces shone warm in the yellow firelight, identical to her in her burning pain.

The shadows of death were not to be fooled—they danced about her, extending welcoming hands. She had been warding them off with excuses all this while, but she took care not to touch them.

_How long more must we wait?_They kept asking. _How long are you going to run?_

_Please, until the child is born. I cannot let her go. I love her too much._

Slowly, slowly, she eased her way down the wearying road. _Just a little more! Soon, your friends will be smiling, your child will be crying. And you will have a mug of warm cocoa in your hands to revive you. The midwives are waiting—_

Her breath was cut short. Around her, their pleas were turning into screams—the shadows couldn't wait any longer.

A cold grip encircled her weakening hand. And before she had time to realize, it had crept through her arm, her body, a cold slithering snake, wresting her slowly from the world of cold mountains and shining fields—

Her screams died even before they reached her. All around her, everything was fading—the voices, her husband's touch, all drifting further and further away as she sank into the cold pool of oblivion…

_But I won't deny it, for I love her too much._

…

* * *

"_Murderess!"_

The newborn wailed as the slap met her cheek—felt the starry night wind rush by her ears, her head crunch deep into the frozen snow. The stars flooded her eyes, the snowy wind in her nose.

Tears stung on her cheeks. She bawled, gasping the wind of the night as the furious footsteps faded away. She cried for all the worth of her life, as all newborns did. She was certain, somehow, that crying would bring the two men back.

But there was only silence and stillness around her, flooding the spaces between her shrieks. The dark figures had vanished, and beyond, the icy, windswept rises entombed the sky.

Squirming restlessly on the burning snow, her tears washed into the ice at her fingers. Her hands were cold, bitten by the frost, the teeth of tiny monsters.

_This is the world. This is the way things run._

The newborn fell into deep quiet, the silence sovereign. And there, she learnt the first lesson of her life.

* * *

_Chikane-nyan? Wake up, Chikane-nyan._

The girl stretched, rubbing her eyes. The ice-coldness around her brought her such comfort she almost fell back asleep.

_Chikane-nyan! Breakfast! Or I will eat your share already!_

Something hard and long nudged her, and she rose quickly to her feet before her eyes could close again. The girl glanced up to find her foster father, Uncle, gazing back with stern grey eyes.

_I see you are awake, Chikane-nyan. Why are humans so difficult to awaken?_

Anger bubbled in her throat. _It is not because I am a human, you idiot! It is because I had a terrible night last night!_

Regardless, her foster father bowed his head lower, in a gesture of curiosity. Remembering the contents of her dream, Chikane swallowed.

_I dreamt of snow, hurting me,_she replied. _I dreamt of tall humans. I dreamt that they threw me into the mountains, and ran away—_

_Now dear, _Uncle responded quickly, seeing how agitated his foster daughter was growing. His great icy wings of iridescent silver and white touched her back in affection, but she flung them furiously away. _You are only seventeen in age. That is not something you should trouble yourself with—_

_But I know it is important! _Her tune was high and desperate. _You have been obscuring my real past from me all this while. You refuse to give me _any _details! But I have every right to know how this happened! Why won't you tell me? What are you hiding?_

_Why must I keep telling you? The truth will only hurt you,_her foster father replied with irritation.

_So _tell me. _Only something important will agitate me so. That dream was about my past, _wasn't it_?_ _How did I come to be here? _She was breathing fast and hard. Uncle drew backwards slightly.

_Promise you will not cry, Chikane. Promise me that._

_Yes, I _promise_._

His sigh was lyrical and dissonant. His gazed up at the sky, through the cave mouth. _Goddess, forgive me for my sin, _he prayed. Then, he turned gravely to Chikane.

_My dear…you weren't always with us. You were from the village on the border._

Already, the girl's eyes were growing wider. She begged silently for more, and Uncle went on.

_It was a day when the hunt was low—I was standing on the mountaintop, searching for human bandits… Then I heard your cry. I descended the mountain, to see two humans—_

She froze and turned quickly away. Chikane felt herself grow even colder, despite the dragon magic that protected her. _What—?_

_They threw you straight into the rocks. They called you a murderess. They said that they would exile you forever from the village, because you killed your own mother._

_But—_

_There you lay, just a single little human baby—and of course, my hunger almost engulfed me. But…but then I looked down into your eyes._Chikane Himemiya—_I read your name there. And at once I knew that I could not—_

Their silence after that was filled with the whisper of gales through the icicles. Chikane's throat was dry, the shock still descending into her heart, deepening still.

_They…threw me away? They did not…want me?_

_It is a tradition of theirs to exile their murderers, like this. You had been but five minutes old, and they had abandoned you to the wildernesses._

The human girl forgot her promise. It was too late to remember, anyway. Her tears were already swelling in her eyes, running down her cheeks, flooding her hands coldly in no time. _They—they abandoned me? How can I have killed anyone, if I was only five minutes old? How could they, my…family?_

Suddenly, despite all the stupid things she had learnt throughout her life, _family _meant nothing. No, even this _foster father _of hers, he had hidden the truth so long! There was no trust, no love between them. _Family _was a lie.

_Oi, you promised not to cry one leh, Chikane—_

_SHUT UP!_

Furiously, she stood, flinging the tears from her eyes. _I will _kill _them for it!_ She cried. _I will show them what a _real _murderess is. This is the child they chose to abandon for death!_

_Chikane—_

But Chikane heard not, as she rose—tears and wrath in her dark human eyes—eyes different from the dragons'. What she would give, to rip those eyes out, and have the eyes of the dragons instead!

Her sobs became screams. She fled into the snows, screaming, leaving her father-dragon to plead forgiveness in the echoes of the cave.

* * *

_Unto the world, a new law must be written._

She swooped through nightfall's curtains, like a ghost of the dead branches and the cold stars above, for heaven could not see her, and hell filled her wings. She fell upon the village, silent as the night wind, a devil here to claim her due.

Blood, blood, _blood._Her thirst made her lick her lips and bare her teeth as she waited, breathe bated, at the door. Chikane flexed her fingers, her hardened nails gleaming.

_Predator and prey._She knew who stood on which side of the line.

Then, all was thunder. The ice crunched and the blood danced into the sky. And she tore and laughed, and did what the dragons did best.

"Oh—_kani na buh eh chee bye_. I don't believe it."

A hundred swarmed the orphanage doors, come six in the morning—living men with dead eyes and sweat even in the cold. They muttered as if they couldn't understand, eyes full of darkness and consciousness—and yet every one of them knew. Knew, all too clear, like the snow biting at their bare feet.

Mass murder.

The reek of blood curtained the smells of mundane snowy morning—the hearth fires, the cooking porridge, the animal spoils in the marketplace. Though smoke rose from chimneys and market-goers shouted their bargains, the acrid stench was clear like a gong note.

Mass murder.

The chief made his stately entrance with little time to spare. "Make way," he commanded, forcing his way past the bystanders with furious graveness. "Let me see this."

But of course, the instant he had advanced past the nosey onlookers and the scene came into sight, he could only freeze, and utter the same words everyone else had.

"_Wah lao eh!_ What the hell—"

For this was what he saw, like everyone else. Bodies piled on each other. A hundred pale corpses huddled against the orphanage wall in an orgy of dizzying psychedelic. Children's corpses, stark crimson blood, stale waterfalls, pooling on the snow, spilt wine that now swarmed with flies.

They'd seen it once before—in an attack by a stray ice dragon. Necks crushed, abdomens torn open by claws, deep bite marks lining bloodstained limbs—all identical. This was, in every way, a dragon attack.

But only one thing was wrong.

Those bite marks belonged to a human.

And the monster struck again and again, like a raptor craving too deeply the taste of meat. One by one, households were torn apart, and more children died. Each morning, they would awaken to hear news of another newborn's body, another woman's son, thrown upon the snow at the parents' doorway.

And the nightmare kept returning—a nightmare that didn't end when dawn broke.

* * *

_She never did understand. She only believed the black prophet's words, the words of Yomi Isayama, because she had been taught that they were truth._

_

* * *

_

_Here lies Shizuru Himemiya_

_The woman who never let love go_

Shizuru was always a dreamer.

On cloudless nights, she would rest her chin on the cold wooden windowsill, and watch as the ghosts danced around the North Star with the most beautiful snow songs in the world. It wasn't a legend; they dreamt and sang like the rest of the world, the souls of the dead who had been called to light by the Goddess of fate.

Sometimes she would hear them whisper to her, words of her lost grandmother and her dead pet Kiyohime, beckoning her to the sky and wishing her the best. Sometimes, she didn't know what to believe, and sometimes, they were her only truth.

At the dining table, Natsuki would call out, telling her wife not to be so childish. Still, Shizuru would let the enchantment of the sky engulf her, and it made her smile widen even more.

"Haven't you seen the North Star, Natsu? It's calling to me."

And her husband would only sigh, wondering whether she ought to dream like her.

* * *

_But there was only silence and stillness around her, flooding the spaces between her shrieks. The dark figures had vanished, and beyond, the icy, windswept rises entombed the sky._

_She gazed up at the stars, unknowing of the directions they pointed. She didn't truly understand, and yet she did. She was everyone in the world, all at the same time—everyone who had loved, been loved, shunned it and embraced it. It was disgusting, it was beautiful._

_

* * *

_

Natsuki Himemiya pulled her fur coat tighter around her as she ran. She did so, not to ward off the biting chill of the snowy morning, but to keep out the mortifying cold of something deeper.

In the dawn, the emptiness of the streets was haunting. He refused to notice, as he hastened to reach his destination. The hunters of Genbu sector had been summoned to the guild house that morning, and the veteran had a pretty clear idea what this was about.

_Oh, Goodness, this can't really be my task to perform._

Swallowing and wrapping the coat even tighter, Natsuki Himemiya felt her fingers shake as the guild house came into view.

* * *

In the shadow of the potion shop, Chikane laughed dizzily. The blood on her tongue was heavenly. But she also felt the itch of annoyance—they were raising their defences, setting hunters on her trail. She would have to hide.

But hiding would be a simple matter, simply because her foster father had taught her the human language. It would serve her well, now. The best place to hide from someone was among his own people.

Remember this, Chikane-nyan! _Uncle called out, as he arranged her collection of Hector tails and Leatty furballs by her bed. Her eyes still stung from the scolding she had just received._

Yes? _Chikane replied._

_He swooped down to land next to her, curling his tail around his daughter's figure._

Sometimes, love means pain, _he sang._Sometimes, you have to hurt someone if you love them. But in the end, love is all-conquering, and love will find its way back to you. So take heart…

_Chikane hummed in disinterest, producing the sardines she had procured from the Jr. Pepes she had hunted down, arranging them beside the furballs. She had always loved collecting these strange odds and ends. Her father found it_weird_, but it was just beautiful, to her._

Remember that! _Uncle repeated. Chikane nodded, but her attention was elsewhere._

_

* * *

_

The late afternoon light streamed through the strings of the harp, casting a delicate shadow on the wooden floor. Himeko pursed her lips, stopped by a particularly difficult chord. Her eyes sought out the five individual strings, fingers searching for them…

In the silence, there was a small knock on her door. She hadn't been expecting any visitors, and the abnormality of this event made her shiver.

_What if it's—_

But now she considered the chances of the killer attempting a crime in daylight, and she felt her caution dissipate slightly. Was it safe?

Apprehensively, Himeko stood and crossed the room. Her heart was in her mouth, as she grasped the doorknob and turned it—

Where she had expected to find a killer, there only stood a young woman. Her hair was in wavy black locks, her blue eyes beautiful. But there was a terrifying light of fierceness in them, and it suddenly made Himeko want to slam the door shut.

Then she began to speak. "I am only a traveller," she said with a distant, lilting accent, almost as if she were singing. "I have come in search of business. I heard your music on the road, and it drew me. Do you have room for accommodation?"

Blinking a little, Himeko slowly found a smile. "Yes, of course, and it's a good thing you came in," she replied. "There's a murderer loose on Genbu city, and he or she might have attacked you if you had waited outside any longer." She glanced out the window at the setting sun, heart rate quickening with fear.

The young woman thanked her and glanced around, searching for a place to sit. She didn't carry anything with her, she suddenly noticed. Being her usual paranoid self, Himeko found this a little suspicious. "What is your business?" she asked testily.

"I—I am an ice carver," she replied after composing herself. "I work with no tools but my fingers and my magic."

"Oh? Show me?" she requested, following her to her dining table. She pulled herself a seat and flexed her fingers, her black-painted nails gleaming—

Himeko stepped back. "My goodness, your nails," she gasped, slightly horrified. She laughed softly—a strange, enchanting sort of laugh.

"I lacquer them so that I can carve with them," she replied. "Tools cost much nowadays." The girl blew into her palms, glitter swirling and gathering there in a growing block of ice.

Himeko felt her breaths grow involuntarily deeper, while her brain suddenly joined the dots. "Ice breath," she whispered. "Isn't that a dragon art?"

Again the young woman lost her composure. "It—it is," she gasped. "I travelled into the mountains to learn it myself. It was not easy …"

Himeko could feel the slight suspicion buzzing at the back of her mind again, but she pushed it away. This craftswoman couldn't be dangerous in any way; Maybe a liar, at worst—but not a killer. She returned her attention to the girl's hands, where the ice statue was slowly taking shape.

"What's your name?"

"My name?"

She turned to regard her oddly, then seemed to understand. "Ah, call me Chikane," she replied, turning away. After a pause, Chikane spoke again. "What is yours?"

"I'm—I'm…Himeko," she murmured nervously. Was this all right, revealing her name to some girl she didn't yet know? As she listened to the sound of gently cracking ice, Himeko felt fear churn in her stomach. "Sorry…I'm just so afraid of strangers…and I'm not used to having visitors appear at my door like this. It's terrifying."

The girl stood and smiled again. "No, that is fine," she said. "I think it is actually quite charming…" Suddenly, she held out her carving to her—a beautiful ice shell. Himeko's mouth fell open as she took it in her hand, all distrust falling instantly away.

"Thanks," she said softly. "You're an amazing carver…"

Chikane smiled and fanned out her sharp black nails with pride, an action that should have terrified her to pieces. But she found herself admiring them instead, with a small smile of her own. She was a strange one, this Chikane. But she was likeable.

* * *

"_All evidence points to the fact that she hides somewhere in the village, you will thus go in shifts of five to search the houses—one from dusk to midnight, one from midnight to three o'clock, and one from three until daybreak._

"_In each shift, one person will patrol each area of Genbu city. The townspeople have been instructed to assist you—if any of them spots the murderer in question, they will send out a signal—a blue flare, which has been installed in every household—and you must respond with immediacy, that clear?"_

_They glanced at each other and nodded. Deep inside, they were terrified. But they were men and some of them, robots, and they couldn't let that show, so false bravado was their only answer._

Thus, Chikane's new life had begun. She settled comfortably into Himeko's house, helping her regularly with chores and listening to her music while she continued to carve. Soon the unfamiliarity had melted away—and real friendship took its place, so warmly. Now they would take walks together in the snow, and she would get to know the townspeople with her.

The days spun by like snowflakes. Occasionally, the girl found herself forgetting her task. She just distracted her that much—she acted so much more like a friend than a host. Slowly, she was losing purpose—doing it more for joy than for the information that would progress her deeds.

_Don't forget yourself!_She kept reminding herself. But she kept warming up to her even more everyday learning little things about the musician she had never known before. This was looking to become permanent in her life—but could she let it…?

_No, don't forget yourself._There was a part of her that she would always hate, no matter how close they became.

In the next weeks, the hunters paid Himeko a visit. She almost died from the terror that they had found her out—but they were only here to hook an electric flare to the wall.

"If you happen to find the murderer, you are to light it and throw it on the snow," they instructed.

Chikane's eyes burnt darkly, as they said this. _I will catch them before they catch me,_she thought. _I have to finish my quest._

_

* * *

_

Where did I come from? _She often wondered, as she gazed up at her father-dragon, trying to understand._ Do I have real parents? Why am I not with them? If Uncle isn't my real father, does he really love me? _So strange, for a five-year-old to wonder these things. It was instinct. Dark, dark questions; these dark things had been her calling since birth. She took refuge in angst, in hate and fear. How had these things entered an innocent spirit?_

_(But the seeds had been planted long ago, somewhere between the icy mountains—seeds that grew into strange questions and haunted her all the time.)_

_

* * *

_

Evening fell like a curtain on the small town, once more. As the birds were cooing their farewells, Chikane's host called her to the kitchen, against the sound of water bubbling. It had been a month and a half since her arrival; she had already accustomed herself to the routine.

"Honestly, why do you live alone?" she muttered, cutting the bland carrots with distaste. She had begun to talk exactly like her, over her stay here. "You've got to do all your chores yourself. It's not fun, is it?"

"Definitely not," Himeko laughed. "It's terrible." Then her voice took on a bitter edge. "Well, I left for a reason. They didn't love me. I was just a _slave_to them."

"…They?"

Her eyes held a more pain than all her words. Blinking, she looked down at the fish she was de-scaling. "My mother, she died when I was born, and my father—nope, didn't love me one ounce. I've never, ever been loved in my life."

"I—I know how it's like," she suddenly replied. Himeko glanced up in surprise. Blinking, Chikane hoped desperately that she couldn't see her tears. "I've never…ever been loved before." Her fingers accidentally let her knife slip. Wincing, she laid it down and licked the blood off her finger swallowed deep.

Darkly, Chikane added, "I'm going to make sure _someone_else feels that pain."

Himeko's eyes widened. "Chikane," she gasped. "You…you don't have to. It isn't worth it—"

"I'm a vengeful person," Chikane answered. "Don't stop me."

Silence swept through the room like a cold wind, and they went back to their cooking.

Ten minutes washed by, before Himeko finally broke it. "At least life is pretty decent here," he said more cheerfully. "The chief likes my music…"

A smile had come to the musician's lips, and Chikane found herself loving it so much—for it suddenly made her believe that the world wasn't so cold. How much she wished she could think the way she did…

Chikane sighed deeply and cleared the chopping board of carrots, hoping that Himeko hadn't noticed her lapse in attention. She stared down at the dead creature's gleaming body, mind full of greyness and indecision.

* * *

_Three months, and they hadn't seen any trace of the killer. Some were even beginning to wonder if it had only been a communal nightmare. Guard shifts were reduced from five to three; the hunters began to slacken in their watch. And as the days grew brighter, people felt the relief sinking in. They soaked it up, like a cold man would soak up sunshine._

_Stop this idiocy, Chikane! _The girl scolded herself. But then she heard the magical notes of Himeko's harp, and she found herself relenting to her newfound joy.

Her mind only worked on her quest in the subconscious, now—and she had taken three months to realise that she needed weapons. "Hey, Himeko…" she called. "Do you know I could buy weapons? Just in case?" Her answer was all she needed; then, she could leave this place.

_Leave this place. _The thought made her feel so cold.

Himeko turned. Three months ago, she would have gone completely panicky at the mention of weapons. But somehow she had lost that paranoia around her, and now showed absolutely no fear. "There's a weapon shop at the fountain end of the market street. You know that place, right?"

She nodded and walked to the door, while Himeko gazed on at her—

The sound of the doorknob clicking flung the musician out of her daydream. Rising suddenly, she dashed to the door and snatched her hand, tugging her back. "Hey!" Chikane exclaimed, turning to her.

"Please—please…don't put yourself in danger," she gasped, letting go of her fingers. "I'm just—so afraid."

"No need to be so worried, you paranoid idiot!" Chikane replied with amusement, touching her arm, followed by a kiss on her forehead. Grinning to herself, she resumed her exit. _She is so cute sometimes, _she thought.

* * *

"_How can you be so _lazy_?_ _The murderer still lurks in our town! We have no evidence of his or her departure, and until we do, you_will _remain vigilant! You are_hunters—_you don't let your prey go just because you can't see it!"_

_No one responded. He grunted in annoyance and turned. And they murmured their agreement, bowing, though their hearts were screaming otherwise._

_Unto the world, a promise is torn._

Over the frozen autumn, the hunters came back on duty, steadfast as ever. And alone in Himeko's house, Chikane watched through the windows, more frightened than she had ever been before. She gazed at the cold snow fluttering down through the grey sky, shivering slightly.

Once, she had been ruthless. She had known no guilt, no doubt.

But Himeko had softened her that much. It was as if she had opened a window to her, a window through which she could see herself. She was who _she_was—a lonely person who had never known love.

They often talked of loss and loneliness, sitting together at the sofa on stormy days, watching the pale snow though the glassy panes and warming their hands on their laps. Then they would stare off in silence, and never ask each other what they were thinking. They both understood, without words. And they argued ever so often, too—but their friendship had deepened to the point that such disputes were mere bumps in the road.

It was magical, sweet—and dissonant in her heart. It was so confusing.

Half a year already—she _still_hadn't made a move from the musician's house. Her excuse was always this: She only had two knives, while the hunters had all the equipment of the village. She told herself that she wouldn't last long, and would have to get more before she could hope to take her revenge.

But deep within herself, Chikane also knew that she was staying for _her._For the warmth, for the familiarity was deepening everyday. Why she needed it so, she didn't know. But she knew that it was a weakness, and she knew she would have to banish it eventually…

* * *

_Hate is nurtured in mere seconds, but love takes seasons to grow._

_

* * *

_

"Chikane." There was gentleness in Himeko's voice, as she sat down at her harp and tuned it. Chikane turned, and her heart seemed to melt at the sound of the first note.

"Hm?"

"Have I ever sung for you before?" Her purple gaze was warm and earnest, and Chikane suddenly went breathless in it. She shook her head with a small, shy smile. Laughing softly, she sounded a chord.

Over the half-year she had lived in the musician's house, it surprised Chikane that she had never heard him sing before. She had thought she already knew everything about her—till now.

"Alright, then—" She swallowed, turned to her for comfort. "Here goes.

"_We were—"_

Chikane leapt from her seat, running over to the harp. "I know this song!" she exclaimed, recalling how Uncle had sung her to sleep with these words, in dragon tongue. "Go on, go on!" Himeko's smile widened, and she closed her eyes, breathing. But as the youth began once more, she joined her, singing the harmony to the tune.

"_We were only two children_

_At the heart of a cold world_

_With only one candle_

_To light us the way…_

"Chikane! Your voice is amazing!" Chikane had never seen the girl's face so bright before. She grinned at her, and they went on together.

The song. She remembered the words so clearly now. It was a song of strange places, and of stars, of love in a cold place. It was optimistic, impossible—and yet the moment she heard them in Himeko's voice, she believed every word—though she had been hurt so many times before, though she had never known love. _Didn't she?_

"_But somewhere deep, sleeping—"_

Suddenly, Himeko stopped. The silence hung in the air of the room for a whole minute, ringing so resonantly it was almost magical. Chikane's voice froze with the music. And she looked afraid, so afraid.

"Is…anything wrong?"

Finally Himeko turned to her, eyes brimming. "Chikane," she said softly. "Chikane, if you had the choice…would you stay here forever?" She turned away. "With me?"

Chikane felt her eyes widen, her heart crying. _Yes, yes, yes!_It sang. _Yes, I would—I would give anything to do that!_But her mind pleaded with her, pleaded that she didn't give in…

"You said you were lonely, so many times," she added suddenly. "You said that you've never been loved. But you don't have to feel that way anymore!" She rose, turning to her. "I—I—" She blinked. Chikane felt the musician's eyes burn deep into her, and at that moment everything went haywire in her mind.

"What?" she gasped. "No, you can't—"

"I love you," Himeko said, grasping her shoulders. "I know it's—" Those purple eyes darted away. "I know it's so sudden. But how often…how often do you find someone who understands you more than yourself?"

"But—but—" Chikane' mind was a hurricane. She fought her away, breaths deep and terrified. "You can't! There's too much about me you don't know! I'm—"

She felt her gaze lower itself, from the burden of all the lies she had told. "I was brought up by dragons!" she said. "The ice breath, the claws, they're all—"

"That doesn't matter!" Himeko shouted out in reply, stepping forward when she backed away. "You're the chance I've waited for all my life—the chance for me to lose my pain…"

The dragon girl stepped back again, shaking her head so hard, crying. She couldn't. She couldn't, because she had something to do, and she would only pull her back. She couldn't, even though she loved her too.

"Hi-Himeko…I'm not who you think I am," Chikane whispered, clenching her fists, eyes narrowed. "These claws—" she looked down at them. "—They aren't for carving. They're for killing. They're—"

Then her eyes were suddenly stirred up in deep terror. "You—" she gasped, shaking her head. "No, please—no…"

"Yes, _I'm _the murderess they're looking for!" Chikane snarled and bared her teeth, eyes burning with tears. "I won't be here forever! Soon I'll leave, and I'll kill all the children here. And then the hunters will claim me!"

Himeko should have been afraid. No, she should be scared out of her wits. She should be fleeing from the house at this instant.

But somehow, she felt as if electricity were running through his nerves, her soul so terrifyingly calm.

"Why?" she murmured. "Why must you give up your life like that?"

More tears. "My father," she whispered. "My father—"

She stepped forward, reaching out, suddenly understanding. But she only flung his hand away, drawing further and further away. "Do you know what _happened_to me?" she screamed."My father called me a murderess, just because my mother died! He left me to die in the snow, to be _eaten_by dragons!"

She collapsed against the wall, sobbing. "I'm nothing but _unwanted!_ An unwanted _creature, _un_loved_, un_needed_! Why must this all be my own pain to take?" She whirled around, teeth bared like a wild animal. _"Well, he called me a murderess! So I'll show everyone—"_

Himeko should have gone to light the flare. She knew she should have. But she only reached out to hold her face in her hands, because she knew that pain so well. "You can change, can't you, Chikane?" she asked angrily. "You can leave behind!" She watched as her eyes opened, tears falling from her eyelids. "Chikane, who am I to you? Do my words count as anything? _What_ am I?"

Her lips parted slightly. "Everything," she finally gasped. "Everything, Himeko—"

She tilted her face towards her, and kissed her. Chikane fought desperately for moments, before ceasing and closing her eyes, more tears falling. Moments swung by. She pulled herself away, breathing deeply. "You can't do this," the girl whispered. "I won't change, Himeko—I have a debt to claim—"

And sudden as it had left, the monster returned, filling her eyes with sheer poison. _"He didn't want me, so he took everything away,"_she screeched, panting. _"I'll take everything away from them! Take _everything _away!"_

There was a demon there in her eyes. A dark monster, which finally drove the terror too deep. She whirled away, snatched the flare from the wall. _"No!"_ Chikane screamed, flinging herself, claws sprawled, at her. She sidestepped her, lit the flare, tossed it out the window. Both stared as the blue sparks exploded into the sky, and shouts began to resound through the streets.

"You had the chance, Chikane," Himeko gasped, turning to Chikane. Her throat burnt with tears, but she refused to show it to her. "_You had the chance._"

* * *

_The sparks were exploding over the rooftops. Everyone turned, and instantly the shouts began._

_But the men and robots were too frightened. And only one went running, when the blue fireworks soared into the open sky. Natsuki Himemiya, best hunter in Genbu city._

"_Five minutes," they made arrangements among themselves. "If Himemiya doesn't send news in five minutes, we go check on her. All of us." They nodded and murmured, obscuring the terror from their gazes._

_

* * *

_

"Himeko!" Chikane roared, shaking. "HIMEKO!"

Her eyes were glazed, her expression silent. And as the images of her distant smile echoed through her memory, she felt despair sink in upon her.

Love had _always _been false. She should have realized, before she hurt herself this way. For those minutes, she had almost made her believe in love again. But she had only been _lying._

Now it was too late to change anything.

The door slammed open, a hunter appearing at the doorway, gleaming rifle in hand. "Freeze," she growled. Cold panic gripping her, she glanced up at the knives on the shelf. Just out of reach.

She turned her gaze back to her, and snarled.

But something changed in her expression with no warning, eyes filling to the brim with shock. Chikane stopped, confused. She looked dizzy, faint—disbelieving.

"Oh, Goodness," she gasped. "It's you, Chikane… You—you look just like your mother—"

The sound of her name from unfamiliar lips dazed her for a moment.

But then, she realized that the voice wasn't unfamiliar at all.

"My—father," she replied, the fire quickly returning to her eyes as she growled and raised her claws. _"My father."_

After seventeen years. Seventeen long, painful years of brooding and wondering. _Where did I come from?_

And everything shattered, the curtains of silence torn to shreds. Chikane screamed. Leapt for the knives, spun, charged towards her. The first knife caught her leather glove; the second slit her left arm—but as she drew back, she snatched her wrists with so much force she thought they might crack. _"FATHER!" _she kicked her, spat at her, clawed at her arms. _"Why,_Father_?"_

"Chikane, listen to me!" she called desperately. "Listen! I always knew I shouldn't have done that! I'm sorry, Chikane!"

"Well, I don't believe you, _Father!"_She twisted her right arm and freed it from her grip, thrusting her knife towards her neck—but her hand caught it again. She gasped in despair. "You threw me away. You wanted me to _die_!" Without her bidding, tears were welling in her eyes as she sent another useless thrust at her neck.

"No, no—please, listen! You've got it wrong," her father pleaded, her grip on her hands growing tighter. "I went back to look for you! Oh, I wish you'd come back earlier…" Her eyes grew even more earnest. "Come on, it isn't too late—we can still run away, start over—"

Too late. _Far _too late.

Shouts rang from outside the window. Then twenty hunters charged into the house, weapons ringing against each other. And there was only one thing in their eyes: hunger, for victory, for a fruitful hunt, for the blood of a criminal.

Her father cried out in protest, furious protest.

But still gunshots rang, their cries for blood swelling. They fell upon her, a flock of vultures to carrion—swooped down with ropes and cloths and fists clenched in glory, yellow eyes that swivelled and teeth gnashing in crazed joy. Binding her down before her next breath, rough fingers groped at her, pulled her hair. She kicked, cried, bit—but no one heeded her pleas, her tears, as she was dragged further and further from redemption every moment.

And she was hauled out of the house, while they congratulated each other with slaps on the back. The cold of night doused her face as the hunters marched her down the streets, crying in triumph and drugged joy. Blinded, she heard the cheers from the households all around, from the men and women who left their homes to watch the procession.

"It's the great _murderess_!" they cried. Spat at her, jeered at her. "Exile her! Exile her!"

She thought of her father's eyes, Himeko's words.

_You had the chance._

And alone in her heart, Chikane cried.

* * *

"Well, miss," a hunter with a halberd chuckled. "You know what the punishment for murder is, don't you?"

They were standing facing the mountains, gazing up at the starlit peaks. "Exile," someone behind her laughed. She felt her throat throb with pain.

"I am the daughter of the dragons," Chikane growled defiantly. "They will save me, as they did before. They will take their revenge, for what you have done to me."

"And if that is so, then we'll have to _exterminate _them_,_hm?" Behind the burly halberdier, the rest of the hunters roared in laughter. "No, miss. You'll be chained down. The cold will kill you, _daughter of the dragons_."

_Chains. Cold. _Chikane felt as if the breath had been knocked from her.

At the mountain top, the view of the stars was divine, breathtaking. But Chikane didn't see them. She swallowed, for she could hear the chains ringing, the cackles of witches.

She closed her eyes. Braced herself.

And her last hour began. In the darkness behind her eyelids, hands forced her back against the ice wall. Rings of ice were clamped around her wrists, chains wrapped twice round her body. She was lifted into the night air, her legs lowered deep, deep into the hole where she would lie for the rest of her life.

She never looked. Not once. All the while, Chikane kept her eyes welded shut, as she watched the world spinning away—a world too bright and too wide for her to comprehend. She saw the ones she had killed, screaming in hysterical joy. She saw her dead mother shaking her head and turning away.

Sobbing, she saw the stars vanish one by one, and she knew she would join them soon.

_Murder, exile. A child left to die in the snow._There were only so many times a single soul could survive this. _Father…Father, why?_

This breath was weaker than the one before. Her legs felt nothing, not even the chains.

But this was a good punishment, no? She had always been part of the darkness, the darkness that everyone else had forgotten. She had been condemned to it, the moment her father had abandoned her. She was darkness, where the rest of the universe was light. She had always known it, believed it, embraced it.

* * *

_Too many sins, too many wounds scourged upon her soul._

_

* * *

_

And Chikane Himemiya would die, as all people of the darkness should.

Without honour, without hope, without love.

* * *

_Chikane-nyan? Wake up, Chikane-nyan._

The girl blinked and opened her eyes slightly. Morning had broken. Was this a dream? Or was this heaven? The coldness around her had seeped so deep. It brought her such comfort she almost fell back asleep, and she waited for her death with calm. But she could have sworn she had heard her foster father…

_Chikane-nyan! It's me, Uncle._

Blinking, she turned her head slightly, and saw a single tearful, grey eye.

_Don't cry for me, _she whispered. _I'm just waiting now._

_You can't go like this, _her foster father replied. _You are my daughter, and my daughter will not be killed by ice._

Though she was already so frozen, Chikane felt tears rise to her eyes.

Uncle turned away. _Remember, Chikane? Sometimes love means pain. I can't save you without hurting you._

_Father—_

_Be quiet, Chikane, _Uncle whispered in comfort, touching her muzzle to the girl's forehead, while the tears fell from her eyes. _Be still. You won't die—not here, not now._

Chikane felt a deep warmth sweep through her body. All too quickly, her tears began to freeze on her cheeks, as her body stiffened, lost feeling.

Something had changed. She tried to sing, but her lips were locked.

_You will not be killed by ice, Chikane, _Uncle repeated. _Remember this, my daughter. I love you._

So many times, her father had said those three words. But only now, only _now_ did her heart beat painfully for them.

And it was already so late, too late.

Uncle brushed Chikane's cheek with his tail. She felt nothing.

_I love you too, _Chikane wanted to reply. But her lips didn't follow her command. And she gazed on, forlornness deepening, as the dragon raised his silver wings and took to the sky.

* * *

The weeks were swift, slow. And because she couldn't close her eyes, Chikane watched.

She watched, as the hunters combed the mountains, and the dragons were brought down, one by one. She watched, as the valleys grew empty, and all her childhood friends faded away.

She longed to cry; yet she could not. She could only scream when the hunters came too close. It was the sound of a monster, a demon—a scream that no one understood.

Sometimes, the hunters would set down offerings at her grave, in the hope of appeasing her—Hector tails, Leatty furballs—other beautiful things. And she would let the hunters go, for her throat was clogged with tears.

Eventually, though she grasped them tight, her memories finally slipped through her grip and vanished—all locked away, deep, deep in the vault of time.

They were all gone. All gone. The mountains echoed with the wind, and the glorious dragon cries were no longer existent.

And the tears, the tears would always be trapped within the ice chamber.

Chikane looked up into the night sky, at the North Star that pointed the way to the tip of the world. It sparkled alone, stirring slightly in the blue evening. She had waited this long, watching a clouded sky with dark eyes that would never cry again. But tonight, the sky had cleared, and the world of stars had finally showed itself.

_And what is that song…?_

The lights suddenly began to dance around that single point of light, the skies filling to the brim like heaven beyond the sunset. She fell silent with awe, listening to the voices, clearer now—ancient melodies that wove powerfully through the night.

Faces rose and fell between the waves of the sky—faces, of people she had glimpsed before in her life—people who had died long ago.

It was like listening to thunder and song and snow, all at the same time—it made her heart leap, though she was bound and trapped. Her gaze lingered for minutes, and she could almost the joy on her frozen tongue…

Through the glorious halo of ghosts, a single voice suddenly reached out to her. Tentative, lonely.

"_Chikane…"_

Chikane blinked. A face so much like hers had appeared—the face of a woman worn down by exhaustion…

_Mother!_ She longed to shout in joy, but the words were trapped. _Mother, it's you, finally…!_

The ghost turned her gaze upon the girl, eyes brimming. _"Chikane,"_ she laughed, reaching out as if she could touch her lost daughter. _"You're so beautiful, Chikane! Oh, how I wish I had lived to see you grow up! I died because I loved you, my darling. I'm so sorry… I never, ever meant for you to suffer." _Then she smiled. _"But you're alive, and isn't that the most wonderful thing?"_

Chikane could feel the tears stinging in her eyes. _No, _she answered. _No, it's been a curse! Nothing but a _curse_!_ The girl felt herself go blind with pain. _I'm just a _murderess, _Mother. A hated, disgusting _murderess_—_

She choked on her tears, gazing up into the pool of ghosts. _All my life, I only wanted one thing, one thing I_never _got! It's the reason I was an angry person. The reason I became a killer. The reason I hated those children, who lived with their families and laughed with them—_

She felt her heart clench in her chest.

_Love._

_I just wanted someone to love me._

The wind flooded the valley, and the sky fell silent. Her mother's eyes were so gentle, so sad.

"_But I love you, Chikane,"_she whispered. _"Your father loves you. Himeko wasn't lying either. And Uncle too—he loved you, as much as I do! We don't care what you choose to do, Chikane. We don't care if you're good or evil, kind or cruel! We've always loved you, Chikane—all your life…"_

Chikane remembered now, those things she had never noticed. She remembered her father's desperate gaze, as she pleaded with the daughter she had lost. She remembered her foster father's tears, as he touched his muzzle to her cheek. She remembered Himeko's smile, as her songs unfolded the tale of life. All gone, all flown away like the evening birds.

And a fork of white bloomed through the sky.

Chikane's eyes were shattering. They turned into shards that cut the sky like tiny mirrors. They fell away like glass, like snow, broken promises scattering deep into the darkness. Tears were flooding her gaze—tears of a lost love, tears of a missed chance—tears that now streamed down her cheeks in sweet currents, and melted the snow.

Crying, at last.

The stars were still caught in their symphony, and Chikane was lost, lost so deep in their voices.

* * *

_She was everyone in the world, all at the same time—everyone who had loved, been loved, shunned it and embraced it. It was disgusting, it was beautiful._

_

* * *

_

Footsteps crunched in the snow. A slight figure appeared at the mountaintop—a woman with a lyre in hand. She placed a bouquet at her feet, and rose again to look into her empty, broken eyes.

"Chikane," she whispered, resting her forehead against the ice. "I'm…so sorry. I condemned you to death. Just because—I was afraid."

More tears poured down her face, sparkling in the light of the North Star. She wiped them away, and raised her lyre.

_Is she even there? Will she hear me?_

But she pushed all her doubts and hopes aside, so the song alone filled her heart. _Please, please, Chikane. Please hear me._

Breathing deep, she plucked the strings of her lyre. Slowly, she sang, and the first thin note quavered in her throat. _"We were only—"_

Suddenly she heard a soft hum.

The musician froze, before cautiously continuing to sing. There it was again—a lonely voice, humming in harmony with the tune she played. She looked up at the statue in confusion and fear, reaching out to touch her tear-stained face—

Her fingers leapt away.

A heartbeat, throbbing gently within the ice.

Yet more tears cascaded down her cheeks, as she found her breath again.

_She can hear me._

Blinking, the lone youth strummed her lyre, and sang on.

* * *

_We were only two children  
At the heart of a cold world  
With only one candle  
To light us the way…_

…

_but we danced to the edges  
and dared all the devils  
until, in the moonlight,  
we found a place to stay…_

_

* * *

_

Chikane was always a dreamer.

On cloudless nights, she would gaze at the North Star, and watch as the ghosts danced around it with the most beautiful snow songs in the world. It wasn't a legend; they dreamt and sang like the rest of the world, the souls of the dead who had been called to light by the Goddess.

Sometimes she would hear her mother again, whispering the things she had never had a chance to say. Sometimes she would hear Uncle nagging, or one of her childhood friends calling her to play. And eventually, too, she knew that she would hear her father and Himeko among them, calling out her name.

But she knew she would never join them.

Sometimes, she would scream to the stars, until her heart was void and cold. _They_would bring gifts to silence her—gifts that made her heart break, again and again.

And every so often, when she was alone, she would look up at the world, and ask.

_When, Mother? When will it end?_

Two voices would answer—the voice of a woman, and the voice of a dragon.

_It doesn't matter, dearest! We will be with you all the way, and we will love you still._

She would smile behind her shimmering tears, when she heard those words. It was like watching a glacier fill its pool, watching the mountains grow taller. But she understood, and she let go.

So, alone on the mountaintop, Chikane Himemiya would hum a lonely harp tune to herself. Then she would fall back into her dreams, where she would wander the world like a lost child.

* * *

_Unto the world, a new story is finished._

The wind is sweet, sweet as ever—sweeping the valleys, the mountains, the fields. It sings, flows, writes its own lyrics— and touching the Pikachus' noses as they raise their heads to the silver morning, inviting them to their dance.

But something is different today, as they approach the silent altar. Curious, they sweep around it in a circle, tossing the petals from the bouquet into the air, whistling as the white pieces, more delicate than snow, flutter down upon the altar.

In the sky, the night still hadn't faded away. In the blue-and-indigo quilt above, the stars blink and glint like gemstones. And the witch of the hunter's altar continues to gaze up upon them, at the North Star that points to heaven.

Glancing at each other in surprise, the winds sweep up into the sky, racing each other to the summit. They rise until they are touching the North Star, waltzing and whispering songs between the ghosts.

And as they gaze back down at the altar, they swear they can see two girls laughing.

Falling back to the world, they trace the letters on the altar. Someone has carved new words beneath her. Whom, they have no idea.

But these words make her smile—they can see it, if they look deep enough into those shattered snow eyes.

And so they dance away into the world, laughing to themselves — for they know that today, Chikane Himemiya is happy, as there was someone else to stay with her now.

* * *

_Here lies Chikane and Himeko Himemiya_

_Daughter of the Dragons and Singer to the Daughter_

_Treasures of the stars_

_**Diend**_


End file.
